


I Don't Want to be 'That Guy'

by SecretGeniusShittyKnight (augopher)



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Bisexual Adam Birkholtz, Dan Erickson makes an appearance, Drink Spiking, Gen, Holster is a good brother, NHL player Adam "Holster" Birkholtz, Problematic behavior examination, Safer Sex, Self-Reflection, charity work, night club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-04
Packaged: 2018-07-12 01:41:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7079401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/augopher/pseuds/SecretGeniusShittyKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From the crowded nightclub dance floor, Holster witnesses someone spiking his sister's drink. He stops anything from happening to her, but the events cause him to examine his behavior. What ensues, is a personal crusade to make sex safer and end rape culture.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Don't Want to be 'That Guy'

**Author's Note:**

> I intended this to be a short little headcanon thing, but here we are 3k later, and it's a full-fledged fic. Unbeta'd and written in like 2 hours...in present tense, so please let me know if I made some major errors.
> 
> All characters except the minor male OC's and reporter Dan Erickson who is the creation of [petals42](http://petals42.tumblr.com/) are the creation of [Ngozi Ukazu](http://ngoziu.tumblr.com/) from her comic [Check Please!](http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/post/57705111693) which you should read, because it's s'awesome.

Over Thanksgiving break his senior year, Holster goes out to a club with two of his younger sisters,  Aubrey and Angie (The entire Birkholtz family’s names start with A, starting with his parents Anthony and Amelia); it would be all three of them, but the youngest, Amber, is only 16, and there is no way he will be caught dead in a club that lets in people under 18. Too much grey area with people he might be trying to pick up. The last thing he wants is to accidentally hook up with literal jail bait.

So anyway, he, Aubrey, and Angie are at a nightclub. He’s a few drinks in, but given how often he boozes it up at the Haus and his ridiculous size, he’s not even buzzed. Despite the fact Angie, at eighteen, is in possession of a fake ID, there is no way he is letting her drink. He’s seen his mother’s wrath before, and he does NOT want to be on the receiving end of that should he bring his underaged sister home shitfaced. Aubrey is pretty tipsy though, and at the moment, as he looks over the head of the guy he’s dancing with, he can see her standing by the bar talking with a guy Shitty would describe as an Entitled White Frat Guy Douchebro, or (trademark pending). He’d ignore it, except…

Aubrey does not look happy.

The protective older brother spidey senses he’s perfected over the years are on high alert, and he continues to keep a watchful eye on his sister. The guy he’s dancing with notices that he’s distracted and tells Holster if he’s so interested in her, why not go talk to her. Holster tries to laugh it off, stating that no, that’s his little sister and he’s thinking he might have to go intervene.

His dance partner, relaxes a bit, grinds his ass back into Holster’s hips, and god fucking damn it, if that aggressive fuckboy’s behavior causes him to miss out on what is shaping up to not only be an amazing night of dancing, but also maybe a hot hookup, he is going to break some shit. Starting with the guy’s stupid YOLO snapback.

“Relax. She’s taller than I am, looks like she could break the guy’s face. She can take care of herself.”

Yeah, those are both true facts about Aubrey, but still…something about the guy keeps Holster on edge. However, out of respect for her agency, he goes back to dancing, and for a few songs, everything seems okay. She still looks annoyed with the douche, but annoyed is okay.

But then, everything goes to shit. The guy tugs Aubrey in by the waist; she laughs it off, but Holster knows that laugh. Okay? He’s seen that laugh for years now. It’s her _‘I’m super uncomfortable with the situation, and laughter is my way of dealing with the anxiety because of it_ ’ laugh. She tries to wriggle out of his grip with little success, and because Holster has been watching her so intently he sees the man’s free hand tip a little bottle over her drink. Then, he releases her waist and begins to play with her hair.

Holster excuses himself, explains as fast as he can what he’s just seen, and his dance partner understands. He is over to Aubrey in moments, but not before the guy harassing her has proposed a toast, and in an effort to get him to leave her alone, she obliges and takes a long drink. Holster can see the moment the fucking asshole sees him approach the bar, because fuckboy’s face goes white like he’s just experienced the fear of God.

Before Aubrey can take another drink, Holster reaches out and grabs the drink from her, stopping it only inches from her lips.

“Adam, what-”

He sets the drink down and grabs the guy by the shirt, and from this close, Holster can see he’s got a good half a foot and easily fifty pounds on him. “He drugged your drink, Brie, I watched him.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees his sister jump back away from the glass like it burned her.

Douchebro raises his hands and begins to plead his innocence. “Dude, I swear to God. I didn’t do anything. Look, I was just flirting.”

A sick feeling begins to form in Holster’s stomach, one he will address later, in the safety of his bedroom, but right now- “Did she tell you she wasn’t interested?”

“Well yeah, but all she had to do is say she had a boyfriend, and I would have backoff.”

“Boyfriend or not, she said no. Doesn’t change the fact I saw you drug my little sister’s drink!” And the volume at which he spits the words at him, is enough to be heard over a quiet spot in the music.

It attracts the attention of the bartender who soon brings over the manager and club security, and in that moment, the asshole knows he’s fucked. Holster makes daggers at him while he explains what he saw and waits with Aubrey for the cops to show up. He gives his statement, watches the officer test her drink, and stands, his chest filled with pride at the sight of the guy being led away in cuffs.

He no longer feels like dancing, and since his partner–whom had in explicit terms told him was DTF–is no longer in sight, he finds Angie. There is an odd silence in the car as she drives them both home.

Once outside the car, stopped at their childhood home, Aubrey hugs him tightly. “Thank you.”

He tries to play it off, “It was nothing. Just doing my job as your big brother.”

“And that’s why you’re the best. Sorry it cost you a hookup.”

He gives her a soft chuckle, “No, it was probably just mutual blowjobs in the men’s room. I can do better.”

Angie makes a face of disgust and covers her ears as he unlocks the front door. “La, la, la. I can’t hear you.”

He waits for her to remove her hands before adding, “It wouldn’t be the first time.”

 

***

 

About half an hour later, as he lies there in his bed, too small for his height with his feet hanging over the end, he replays the night’s event in his head. With a shudder, he finally pinpoints why the guy’s actions with Aubrey first set him on edge, you know, before he tried to roofie her. It hits Holster like a 2x4 to the face.

The aggressive, laying the charm on thick, waiting for her to say she was in a relationship before backing off…

Though not as forward, he and Ransom had both acted like that before, and it is that thought that has him running into the bathroom separating his bedroom from Aubrey’s to empty his stomach into the toilet.

Even after he rinses out his mouth and brushes his teeth again, he can’t get the taste of his epiphany out of his mouth.

 

***

 

“I’m telling you, Ransy,” Holster says from where he is snuggled into his best friend’s side on the green couch as they played a game of Accidental Innuendo. To be honest, soccer announcers couldn’t hold a candle to some of the shit hockey commentators come up with. Case in point, “He was standing in front of the net with about eight inches of his shaft in his hand.” Classic. He digresses, but anyway, about five minutes ago, their conversation turned serious, “it was the most nauseating moment of my life. We have to change. You and me…we will not be those guys. You, my delicate coral reef best bro for life, and I are going to help stop that behavior. It’s our mission, should you choose to accept it. Can I count on you?”

Ransom rests his head upon Holster’s shoulder, crosses an arm over his chest and hugs him. The arm slung over the back of the couch, moves down to rest against his neck, where Ransom rubs his arm. “If it’s important to you, then it’s important to me.” He sits up and grins before planting a loud, smacking kiss on Holster’s cheek. “I’m proud of you, bro. Learning from your past behavior and using it to enact change. It’s inspiring.”

“I’m wicked proud of you too, brah!” Shitty calls from the kitchen.

Wait what? “Dude, why are you here, Shits? Aren’t you supposed to be in class right now?”

Shitty walks into the living room, butt ass naked, as per the norm, holding a can of Natty Light. “Nah, it’s all good. Professor needed an emergency appendectomy, ergo, no class today. So I thought, why not spend my long weekend with all my best bros? Anyway, I’m proud you have examined your problematic and misogynist behavior and intend to use it for good.” He holds out his fist, “Fuck the patriarchy! Come on. Fist bump me, brah.”

Holster obliges with a smile just as Whiskey walks into the house with Tango hot on his heels asking him a question about whether or not male seahorses realize how unique they are in the animal kingdom. Whiskey takes one step into the living room, eyes Shitty up and down, before chuckling.

“You know, when they said there was a guy who liked to walk around the Haus naked, I honestly expected some huge guy whose muscles had muscles. You know, the kind who lives to show off. Glad to see you’re a normal dude, well except for the totally comfortable with your nudity thing.”

Whiskey walks back out of the room as quickly as he came in, and Shitty plops down in the armchair, throws his legs over one arm, and cranes his head over the other to stare up at Holster upside down. “It would be my esteemed privilege to help you in this endeavor. What are we going to do?”

Holster hurries up to his room and brings down a handful of printouts. “Well, I want to do something with our kegsters from now on, but I don’t have the money. Can you help with writing a grant proposal?”

Shitty smirks; his mustache twitches. “I can do you one better.” He leaves the room, and Holster can hear him on the phone saying, “You know how you’re always whining that I never let you help me? Well, Robert, father…I have something that will help you redeem yourself…or at least make me not hate you so much.”

 

***

 

The music booms throughout the Haus, and all the guests, his teammates, and fellow Hausmates look to be having a great time. Holster smiles as he checks on the provisions bowls by the front and back doors, the one on the kitchen counter.

Pulling rank as their captains, he and Ransom enlisted the entire team’s help assembling the safer sex kits that now stocked the bowls. Little zipper bags had been stuffed with two condoms, a dental dam, single of lube, a Colgate wisp. The frogs were in charge of cutting apart the cards on consent and safe sex practices. The final touch had been the pepper spray keychains, whistles, and drink test strips to test for date rape drugs.

Now, as he walks through the party, he stops to hand kits to couples or groups of particularly amorous students.

One woman stares at him, with her mouth open for a moment, before snarling, “Are you calling me a whore?”

“On the contrary. I just want everyone to be safe, no matter how they choose to end their evening. Who or how many people you sleep with or don’t sleep with is no business of mind. You do you. Just be safe about it.”

He watches as her look of outrage morphs into one of acceptance. “Thank you. That’s very progressive of you, especially for a jock.”

Holster shrugs. “Just trying to change the statistics, educate people, and stop problematic behavior as best I can.”

Once he’s made his rounds, he stands in the archway that opens to the living room and surveys the scene. Ransom soon comes to stand beside him and gives him a high five followed by a ruffling of his hair. “We did good. You did good.”

“Thanks, Rans. Just trying to make sure what happened to Aubrey doesn’t happen to anyone else.”

 

***

 

Holster shifts in his seat as he sits across from the reporter who will be interviewing him. Honestly, he’s nervous in a way he’s never been before. Not even his nerves before his first NHL game three years ago were this bad. He rubs the back of his neck and remembers why he’s here, why he’s filming this segment in the first place, and he finds his anxiousness subsiding a little.

Besides, he likes this guy. Jack swore by his professionalism when it came to introspective and respectful questions.

“So, Adam,” Dan Erickson starts, “from the moment you entered the league, you made it your mission to use your position in the public eye to combat rape culture and promote safer sex. I’m sure you’ve spoken about this before, but tell it again for those that may not follow hockey and are just seeing this interview on _Sportscenter_. What prompted you to start the Safe Respect Foundation?”

Holster adjusts his glasses. He really should get Lasik like Ransom keeps telling him to do. “Well, my senior year, I witnessed someone slip a drug into my sister’s drink. Before that, the guy was just a little too aggressive in his flirting. It caused me to examine my behavior and see if anything I’d done when trying to pick someone up, looked the same. Now, granted, though I would never drug anyone nor would a lot of people, one person’s idea of flirting is crossing the line for someone else. People just don’t know that some of their actions could be seen as predatory. So I started off with my teammates, making safer sex kits to hand out at parties. Got permission and worked with the Sexual Health and Relationship Center on campus to launch a campaign to increase awareness about consent and healthy relationships.”

“And what type of success did you see?”

“Well, it was my senior year, so it was the groundbreaking year, but since its inception, Samwell has seen a 45% drop in sexual assaults and acts of relationship violence reported. I’m hoping that’s because there honestly have been less of them, and not that people aren’t reporting it. It sure seems like it is when I talk to people from the university.”

Dan nodded. “In your rookie year, you partnered with the National Sexual Violence Resource center to launch a similar initiative that has seen promising results. What do you think makes it so successful?”

Holster smiled. “Honestly? By treating the issue of rape culture as a problem for everyone, not just women. In the past, I have seen, even heard it taught to young girls and women that it is their job to ensure they are not victims of sexual assault, and not to teach people not to commit sexual assault in the first place. Many initiatives leave out or exclude male victims entirely, which doesn’t help either. We focus on teaching what counts as consent, and how to make sure you get it before any type of sexual activity, regardless of your gender or the gender of your partner, partners. We make sure the people we talk to understand, that anyone can be a victim, and conversely…it isn’t just men that can commit sexual assault. There has been some pushback from people clinging to old ideas about who can be a perpetrator, who can be a victim.”

Dan cleared his throat. “This year your focus has been on ending victim blaming. How is that going for you?”

Holster sighed, “I wish I could say it was going better, but old habits die hard. People would rather put the responsibility of staying safe on the victim than teach people not to rape in the first place. That…that has to change. I am happy to say that the yearly classes the NHL has implemented about hookup culture and proper behavior has resulted in a massive decline in reported assaults, and the two incidents of reported rapes were treated seriously. The victims weren’t run through the mud just because their attacker was famous. Formal charges were filed, and I hope this trend continues through all the sports.”

“If we could, I’d like to change topic slightly,” Dan said.

“Sure.”

“You received the King Clancy Memorial trophy for the second year in a row this year. For those who don’t know, the trophy is awarded annually to the NHL player who best exemplifies leadership qualities on and off the ice and who has made a significant humanitarian contribution to his community. Winning the award this year, Adam, is unprecedented, because you are the first player to receive it more than once. So congratulations on that. How does it feel knowing that?”

Holster is positive he’s blushing, but he doesn’t care. “It’s s’awesome. Like growing up and playing in juniors…guys dreamed of winning the Hart, the Vezina, the Calder. I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t thought about what it would be like to win the Norris in my career. But you know what? Being voted a great player, the best at it for the year pales in comparison. God, I don’t care if I’m ever good enough to win one of those. Being told twice, that you are an outstanding human being who is making a difference in the lives of so many people…nothing could feel better than that.”

**Author's Note:**

> come visit me on [tumblr](http://secretgeniusshittyknight.tumblr.com/).


End file.
